


pride, painted silver

by Resamille



Series: Archery AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Archery, Asexual Akaashi Keiji, Asexual Character, Asexual Kozume Kenma, Basically. But Kinda not quite., Didn't Know They Were Dating, Falling In Love, Getting Together, M/M, Moving In Together, background bokuroo and oisuga which gets mentioned a lot, kenma is Done™ in nearly all instances, kuroo is too observant, maybe somewhat on the aromantic spectrum too, other characters make appearances but i can't be bothered to tag, this is entirely just like. fluff and ace validation, this is entirely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/pseuds/Resamille
Summary: A lesson in love and accepting yourself, because sometimes we all need it.(Or: Akaashi learns a lot during his time competing for the men's compound team with Kuroo and Bokuto. Namely, he learns he's fallen in love.)





	pride, painted silver

**Author's Note:**

> mmm I've been dealing with some things lmao.
> 
> I needed to dish out some feelings about my sexuality so I hopped on some ace akaken. don't expect too much. I just needed some ace validation.
> 
> Pretty sure this is readable without having read the oisuga companion. this has a lot less archery poetry shoved in it

Akaashi is twenty when he joins the compound team with Kuroo and Bokuto. They're both two years older than him already, and Akaashi's joined late, so, in total, they have four years of shooting experience more than him. He tells himself it's fine, because it really is.

Nekomata, the aged coach with a kind face and calculating eyes under a furrowed brow, says he'll catch up in no time. He also says that Akaashi might bring some stability to the team. It only takes Akaashi about two days of practice with Kuroo and Bokuto to figure out what their coach had meant by that.

Kuroo and Bokuto are, at their cores, good-intentioned.

But everything else is an absolute fucking disaster.

Akaashi is as patient as he can be with them. Bokuto is boisterous and loud and over the top, but his focus—once he taps into it—is undeniably useful. Once Akaashi has him concentrating on shooting, Bokuto can shoot straight tens for _hours_.

It's absolutely terrifying.

And, unbidden, it makes Akaashi uncharacteristically competitive.

Maybe it's Bokuto's unending enthusiasm. Or, perhaps, it's actually Kuroo that triggers this ambition in Akaashi.

Kuroo isn't exactly the opposite—he's still rowdy and obnoxious when he tries to be, which, face it, is rather often when Bokuto's around—but there's an underlying perceptiveness to Kuroo that makes Akaashi always feel like he's under the microscope. More than once, he's caught Kuroo watching him as he shoots, brow quirked, an arrow spinning lazily between his fingertips.

Akaashi always meets his calculating gaze, never faltering in the challenge. But Kuroo never says anything, never corrects Akaashi's form or judges his lack of experience. Instead, he waits, waits until realization dawns over Akaashi when he thinks through his own shot and finds his own flaws. Every time, as Akaashi's lips curl into a disapproving scowl, Kuroo's mouth quirks into a sly smirk, as if he'd known all along that this was going to happen.

Akaashi belatedly realizes that Kuroo doesn't do the same with Bokuto. Instead, he's always hovering at Bokuto's back, watching his draw, gaze locked onto the position of his anchor. He never holds back words for Bokuto, be they praise or corrections. Half the time, the corrections send Bokuto spiraling, but Kuroo seems to be able to drag him out of it. Akaashi supposes that's what happens when you've been teammates for four years.

Two months into practicing with the compound team, they get a new recurve shooter too.

Akaashi speaks to Oikawa rarely, and he has at least a vague appreciation for Oikawa's skill, even if it isn't the same type of bow. But really, majority of the time, Akaashi just wants to politely strangle the man.

Kuroo seems to take some sort of sickening joy in watching them interact.

Suga, in all his mischief and general unashamed salaciousness, Akaashi could deal with. Because Suga seemed to realize that Akaashi had a very distinct wall he kept around himself. Suga had boundaries, and respected Akaashi's, and sure, there was teasing, and Akaashi still probably knows more about Suga's casual hookups than is strictly necessary, but Suga never makes advances on Akaashi personally.

They're maybe not friends yet, but they're definitely on the way there. Akaashi likes Suga. He's bright and funny and not afraid to talk shit about Kuroo at the drop of a hat. Akaashi can get behind that.

Oikawa, however, is an entirely different story. The problem with Oikawa is that he likes to pick people apart at the seams: there's a devil in that man that drives him to tear others open and make them watch while he holds their slow-beating hearts in his hands.

And, _God_ , the _flirting_.

It takes at least a month of Akaashi studiously ignoring Oikawa's playful advances, ranging from cute to downright sinful, for Oikawa to stop exclusively prodding at him. Unfortunately, his next target is Iwaizumi, which in turn bites all the other shooters in the ass because Iwaizumi is their trainer and a pissed Iwaizumi means one hell of a fucking work-out.

By the time the six-month mark rolls around for Akaashi, he's settled pretty well.

He's learned to work well with Bokuto and Kuroo, learned to read them and adapt with them for team competitions. He picks up tidbits from Kuroo, about how to manage Bokuto's moods, how to keep him steady once he reaches that centermark on the target, how to keep him from falling apart during a stressful match.

Akaashi learns Kuroo, too: that his calculating gaze comes from a desire to coach, since he knows his skill is better in guiding than it is in shooting. Akaashi doesn't want to argue—Kuroo has the wildest shots out of all of them, but he's reliable in a pinch to make up points when Bokuto crashes. Akaashi learns that Kuroo's grateful for the stability Akaashi brings to the team, has high hopes for the upcoming World in a few months.

And really, since Akaashi learned so much about Bokuto and Kuroo, he should have figured some other things out. Like the fact that Kuroo and Bokuto are an item.

And maybe he should have realized that they would, in turn, learn about him.

Akaashi finds himself leaning against the counter of Nekomata's kitchen when the holidays slip ever closer. Suga is next to him, wearing what is probably one of the dorkiest, most-cliche Christmas sweaters Akaashi has ever seen. He's chatting about something vaguely related to archery, but not quite—mythology, maybe?

Akaashi's stopped paying attention, because instead he's watching as Kuroo and Bokuto crowd into the room, jostling each other and loud and laughing and probably drunk.

“'Kaashi!” Bokuto cries, bubbling with excitement, as per usual. Akaashi lets the nickname slide, if only because he doesn't have time to respond before Bokuto is squeezing all the air out of his lungs in a too-tight hug. “You came!”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi wheezes out. “Please.”

“Come on, Bo,” Kuroo says, tugging at the back of Bokuto's collars. “Let him breathe. You know he doesn—”

Bokuto goes easily, abandoning Akaashi in favor of draping himself over Kuroo.

“Christ,” Suga giggles. “Has Bokuto already gotten to the eggnog?”

Bokuto nuzzles his nose against Kuroo's neck, and that's when it first starts to click for Akaashi.

“So, we might have pregamed a little,” Kuroo says, sheepish. “I figured you and Nekomata would get to everything first, but I think I underestimated either the strength of the drinks or Bo's tolerance.”

Bokuto lifts his head to grin at Kuroo. He tilts his head so he's leaning his cheek on Kuroo's shoulder but looking at Suga. “I'm good,” he says confidently. “It's just that it's not practice, so Akaashi and Nekomata can't yell at me.”

“For what?” Akaashi asks dumbly. “It's not like you're going to miss the target at a Christmas party.”

Suga smirks. “I can't believe you managed to stop their PDA with your mere presence.”

Akaashi's brow furrows. “What?”

Before anyone properly explains, the doorbell rings. Six times.

“Good God,” Suga groans, straightening. “That must be Oikawa. He and Iwaizumi went to get food. Kuroo, help me bring it in?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees easily, slipping out of Bokuto's hold with ease, obviously practiced at disentangling himself.

Bokuto follows, anyway, and Akaashi supposes it's really only his Oikawa aversion that keeps him from naturally following the group. But curiosity tugs at him, so he trails at a distance.

Suga is holding open the front door as Iwaizumi comes in carrying a bag in each hand. He pauses to let Suga kiss his cheek. The same thing happens with Kuroo, when he slips through the door with a platter in his arms.

Akaashi glances up. Ah. The mistletoe would explain that, then.

Suga slips away from the door to help Kuroo. Bokuto takes over his place holding the door open.

“...better go before Oikawa—”

Akaashi half-registers the words as he sees Oikawa approaching the door. And then Kuroo's flying from the kitchen into the entryway, just as Oikawa steps into the house.

Kuroo barrels into Bokuto, wrapping his arms around Bokuto and pressing their lips together in a slow kiss. Kuroo's elbow smacks into the platter in Oikawa's hands, and on instinct, Akaashi lurches forward to catch it before it clatters to the ground.

Akaashi has two realizations in this moment.

The first: Bokuto and Kuroo are dating.

The second: he's just stepped under the mistletoe with Oikawa. Oikawa, whose gaze is now glimmering with mischief.

“No,” Akaashi deadpans.

“Oh, come on!” Oikawa pouts. “Iwaizumi would let me!”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” comes a call from the kitchen. “But don't let Shittykawa tell you any lies about me.”

“It's just a kiss,” Oikawa huffs.

“Lay off, Oikawa!” Suga calls. “I'll give you a kiss, if you want it that bad.”

Oikawa pouts. “But then Akaashi would be _lonely_.”

“I'm quite fine,” Akaashi states.

Kuroo pulls away from Bokuto, though his arms stay circled around Bokuto. “Oikawa, leave it.”

“Well, Akaashi wouldn't have owned me a kiss if you didn't steal mine from Bokuto!”

“I don't mind,” Bokuto shrugs.

“You're not kissing my boyfriend,” Kuroo says, making a face. “Not until you at least shoot better that me. You have to earn some of this.”

Oikawa makes a face right back at him. “You two are gross.”

Akaashi turns and starts to walk away.

“Hey!” Oikawa grumbles. “Not fair! You still—”

“He's ace, Oikawa,” Kuroo deadpans.

Akaashi freezes. Oikawa goes quiet.

Akaashi turns slowly, gaze pinned on Kuroo.

“Oh,” Oikawa breathes out, finally. “I didn't—I didn't know. I'm sorry, Akaashi.”

“It's fine,” Akaashi says, without looking at him. “You didn't know. I never told you... Or Kuroo.”

Oikawa must sense the sudden tension, because he mutters another apology and sneaks past Akaashi to bring the food in his hands to the kitchen.

Kuroo shrugs. He nudges at Bokuto to get him to slip away. The distance between them just makes the tension tighter. “I'm sorry,” Kuroo eventually says. “I didn't mean... I shouldn't have outed you. It's none of my business.”

Akaashi swallows, forcing his muscles to relax. “How did you even know?”

Kuroo shrugs again. “Assumption mostly, but, uh... A good friend of mine is ace, too, so I've had my fair share of experience with it, I guess. Not that everyone's the same, but y'know...”

Akaashi blinks at him. “So, you don't think it's... weird?”

Bokuto's eyes go wide. “Weird? Why would—never, Akaashi!”

Kuroo's mouth twitches into a smile that's just a little fond, somewhere under the smirk. “Bro, you being _not_ into sex is probably the least weird thing about all of us. We're collectively into some pretty questionable things. I'm mostly sure Iwaizumi is—”

“I don't want to know,” Akaashi interrupts. “But... Thank you, Kuroo, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto abandons Kuroo's side in favor of wrapping Akaashi in another hug, this time far less bone-crushing. Akaashi relaxes against Bokuto, his teammate, his friend. The contact, itself, the warmth, is easy, even if Akaashi only seeks it out rarely.

For now, he allows it, and meets Kuroo's bright gaze over Bokuto's shoulder.

 

Kuroo's eyes are far too knowing.

Akaashi knows Kuroo is scheming. Actually, he's always scheming, but usually about how to convince Akaashi to take them out for lunch or find and excuse to have Bokuto take off his shirt. Annoying, yes, but typically fairly tame (though probably not innocent).

But this: amber gaze darkened with _understanding_ and intensely focused as he watches Akaashi loose another arrow.

“You're intrigued,” Kuroo states, as soon as Akaashi's arrow hits the target.

“Of course I am,” Akaashi replies simply. “I wasn't expecting the recurve team to pad their ranks so quickly.”

“You don't care about that,” Kuroo says. “You're interested in him.”

“I would not use that phrasing...” Akaashi murmurs. “But perhaps. I'm curious.”

“Well,” Kuroo says with flourish. “It's your lucky day. Fire a question at me.”

“Did you sit in on an interview with him or something?” Akaashi asks, and pulls back another shot. They've been practicing for a good portion of the morning, and Akaashi's shoulders are just starting to feel the twinge of exhaustion seeping into them.

He can't imagine how the recurve shooters are keeping up, considering they have to hold greater forces while they aim. No wonder Oikawa tends to snap shoot.

“He's my best friend,” Kuroo announces, and Akaashi's arrow thuds solidly into the target. “We've known each other since we were kids.”

Akaashi hums, glancing across the range to where the recurve shooters are practicing. Vaguely, Akaashi hopes Oikawa isn't completely all over his new teammate. Then again, Oikawa seemed to have mellowed recently, at least in the obnoxious flirting aspect. Come to think of it, after the holiday party at Nekomata's house...

Akaashi doesn't think it was his interaction with Oikawa, so something else...

“Go on,” Kuroo prods, drawing Akaashi from his thoughts. “Ask away.”

Akaashi steps away from the shooting line and reaches for his water bottle. He plays with the cap for a bit before he speaks. “Is he the... the one like me?”

“Asexual?” Kuroo clarifies. Akaashi nods. “Yeah, that's him. Somewhere in between sex-disinterested and repulsed. No one really fits into nice boxes and such.”

“Is he okay with you telling me this?” Akaashi asks tentatively.

Kuroo shrugs. “Probably not,” he admits. “But you both would be good friends, I think. You both like your space, like it when things are peaceful around you. I think you'd get along well, but neither of you are going to take that first step until someone pushes you, so... _Kenma_!”

Kuroo's voice pitches to a shout just as Kenma releases his arrow, and it goes flying into the two-point ring. Shame, Akaashi notes distantly, the other two arrows in that end had been nines.

Kenma makes a face at them. Kuroo motions for him to come over, and Akaashi busies himself with drinking water so he has something to do with his hands.

“What, Kuro?” Kenma deadpans. He reaches up to tug his hair out of its short ponytail and readjust it.

“You've already met Bo—” Kenma makes a face, brow scrunching together, at Kuroo's words. “This is Akaashi, our third compound.”

Akaashi lowers the water bottle from his lips in order to manage a smile for Kenma. So far, he seems especially mellow, which is something Akaashi would have never expected from a good friend of Kuroo's. “Pleasure,” Akaashi murmurs.

Kenma's gaze flicks over him quickly. “Akaashi...?”

“Ah,” Akaashi says. “Keiji.” He offers his hand out.

Kenma takes it with only a second of hesitation. “Keiji. I'm Kenma.”

“Kenma!” Oikawa calls from his lane somewhere down the range. “Stop carousing and come practice! World is only in a month. We don't have time to dawdle!”

Kenma releases Akaashi's hand and makes that same face. Akaashi is starting to realize it's his default for _immensely displeased_.

“He gets... well, not better, but maybe tolerable,” Akaashi comments.

Kenma glances up at Akaashi with a dry expression. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he mumbles, and then stalks back to where Oikawa and Suga are shooting.

“Must you,” Akaashi grumbles at Kuroo as soon as Kenma's gone, “Spring unprepared introductions on me?”

“Like I said,” Kuroo says without an ounce of apology. “You both don't do much unless you're pushed.”

Akaashi scowls at him. “Oikawa is right. World is soon, and you should be practicing. It'd keep your mouth shut.”

Kuroo smirks at him. Akaashi notes with a twinge of annoyance that his sly smile is becoming familiar, comforting even. Unfortunate, that.

But Kuroo picks up his bow from the rack and pulls an arrow from his quiver. Akaashi watches, this time, as Kuroo settles back into his spot next to Akaashi. He releases one arrow.

“Your anchor,” Akaashi notes. “It's off on your nose.”

Kuroo's lips turn into a scowl. “Damn it, you're right.”

“You're not the only observant one here.” Akaashi picks up his bow and aims another arrow.

He's shot well today. Preparations for World are going well. They have a good chance at the team gold, and the individual, well... It's Akaashi's first World and he's not exactly ambitious, but he'd like to see Kuroo or Bokuto take the gold.

And who knows? Maybe if Akaashi does surpass them, it'll make it that much sweeter.

Kuroo lets out a huff as Akaashi lets his arm drop when he releases.

“Relax your elbow, not your shoulder,” Kuroo scolds. “Don't think I didn't catch that.”

Akaashi winces slightly. “Got it.”

Kuroo readies his next shot. He's caught, for a heartbeat, in that second of stillness. A statue, bold and powerful and elegant, for a moment—and it's in that same moment that Bokuto gets back from his workout with Iwaizumi.

Kuroo studiously ignores the sound of the door opening. They're all practiced enough to ignore small distractions like that, but it's much harder to ignore Bokuto's hand smacking hard against Kuroo's ass right as he releases the shot.

His arrow smacks into the wall with a resounding crack.

Akaashi whistles lowly. “That sounded like it splintered.”

“ _Koutarou_ ,” Kuroo growls. “That one was good!”

Bokuto grins, just a bit too devilish. “The arrow or the slap?”

Kuroo's mouth drops open. Akaashi would like to appreciate his moment of speechlessness, but instead of actually scolding Bokuto, he grabs at Bokuto's shirt and drags him close for a kiss. Which doesn't stay innocent longer than half a second.

Akaashi scoffs, and turns away from them. He's decided he's going to ignore them and keep shooting, but as he settles into position on the shooting line, he catches Kenma's gaze from down the range.

There's something sharp in it: hunger, maybe, but void of desire. Akaashi feels himself freeze, prey—caught. When he'd teased Kuroo about not being the only observant one, Akaashi had been talking about himself, but it seems he had miscounted. He's not used to being wrong, but perhaps Kenma's going to change that.

Kenma's lips curl up, and his shoulders curl forward, shaking slightly. Belatedly, Akaashi realizes he's laughing.

Unbidden, Akaashi's own mouth twists into something amused. He pulls an arrow from his quiver and uses it to _whap_ Bokuto on the shoulder, effectively breaking him and Kuroo apart.

“Hey, Oikawa!” Akaashi calls.

“What?”

“When is World?”

Oikawa immediately lets down his aimed shot, instead of firing. His head whips towards Akaashi. “It's in a _month_!” he screeches, scandalized. “You can't have forgotten—”

“Oikawa!” Suga barks, hands on his hips. “You _moron_ , you got distracted.”

“I—”

Suga glowers at him, and Oikawa sticks his tongue out at him petulantly, but goes back to focusing on shooting.

Kenma's shoulders shake harder.

Maybe their recurve team has a pretty good chance at gold, too.

Akaashi smirks over his shoulder at Kuroo and Bokuto. “Hear that? Only a month. Better get to work, slackers.”

With that, Akaashi draws back, bowstring caught at the grinning corner of his mouth, and fires a perfect ten.

 

“You're going to be there?” Akaashi confirms.

Tsukishima grumbles out an affirmative, pixelated expression pinched into his typical distaste. Akaashi is lingering outside in the increasingly warm spring afternoon since the indoor range doesn't have good enough service to take a video call.

Akaashi finds himself trying not to smirk. He must have picked up this desire to taunt from Kuroo. “Think you have any chances of winning?”

Tsukishima tilts his chin up, looking down his nose into the camera. Even as his posture screams proud and pretentious, he sighs. “My team is good, it's just... They're so _loud_.”

Akaashi laughs at that. “Mine, too. They're dating, too, and shameless.”

Tsukishima looks exasperated on Akaashi's behalf. “God, I wouldn't be surprised... Everyone here is all over the place. Kageyama is good, _great_ , even, but he won't listen to anyone's advice. Fuckin' snap shoots all the time. Hinata's shots are fives half the time and tens the other half, but I've watched him shoot probably over a hundred arrows in one sitting. I wish I had his stamina.”

Akaashi hums, acknowledging. “Bokuto is like that, too, a little. I think he's more practiced though. Kuroo's really good at keeping his composure, but I think I'll probably be better than him in a few years. Right now, though...”

“We're at the bottom,” Tsukishima agrees. “I can't say I expected anything else, really.”

“Any thoughts on individual?”

Tsukishima lets out a groan. “Not a fucking chance. Kageyama, maybe. But with Ushijima in the running... And Sugawara—you've met him right?—he's a damn _powerhouse_ , too.”

Akaashi nods. “Suga is good. We have two new recurve shooters, too. It'll be interesting to see what happens.”

Tsukishima shrugs. “I don't have much hope, personally.”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Akaashi says. “But I understand. We're playing catch-up.”

Tsukishima leans back in his chair and stretches. Akaashi catches a glimpse of Tsukishima's new apartment now that his face isn't taking up most of the camera.

“How's the new roommate?”

Tsukishima hums, thoughtful. “Not any worse than you were,” he states, but Akaashi knows it's teasing. “He's pretty shy. He's on the mixed recurve team, so you'll probably meet him, too.”

“I've heard from Kuroo that our teams mingle pretty well at World. I'm pretty sure we'll get to know everyone—” Akaashi's voice cuts off and he almost drops his phone when he feels something brush against his arm.

“Oh,” Kenma murmurs, hastily pulling away so his hair is no longer tickling against Akaashi's skin. “Sorry. I thought you were playing a game.”

“Jesus—” Akaashi wheezes. “Christ, Kenma.”

Kenma ducks his head and hides behind his hair, now free from its typical ponytail and falling around his face.

“Akaashi?” Tsukishima's voice floats up from where Akaashi has accidentally dropped the hand holding his phone.

Akaashi takes a deep breath and brings the phone back up. “Sorry—just—Kenma snuck up on me.”

“Sorry,” Kenma reiterates in a small voice, but he lingers near Akaashi's shoulder, gaze pinned on Tsukishima's face on the screen.

“Kenma?” Tsukishima asks. “Kozume? Recurve?”

Akaashi nods. He glances at Kenma. “You two know each other?”

“Hinata hasn't shut up about him for the past month,” Tsukishima groans. “Tell him he better be damn good for all I've heard Hinata talk about him constantly.”

Akaashi's gaze flicks down to Kenma. “Are you damn good, then?”

Kenma snorts. “Compared to Shouyou, I'm assuming? Yeah. Shouyou's a bit of a disaster.”

Tsukishima scoffs. “We're going to get our asses handed to us.”

“You never know,” Akaashi tells him.

“Kenma!” Kuroo's head pokes outside the door. He leans on it until it swings open and he's basically outside except that his feet are still technically in the building. “Suga's looking for you.”

Kenma frowns. He glances up at Akaashi, and then to the phone in his hands. “Tell Shouyou I'm looking forward to World.”

Kenma slips past Kuroo and back into the building.

Kuroo glances over his shoulder, and then his gaze flicks to Akaashi. “What did you do?”

“What?” Akaashi deadpans.

“Kenma never is excited about _anything_.”

“It wasn't me,” Akaashi defends. Why does he feel like Kuroo's accusing him of something? “That was _excitement_?”

“He does this thing with his face,” Kuroo explains, very poorly.

“Did I hear that right?” Tsukishima asks dryly.

“Unfortunately,” Akaashi breathes out. “Probably.” He sighs. “I should get back to practice.”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima agrees.

“See you at World?”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima says again, but this time here's more enthusiasm to it. He smiles. “I hope Kenma knows I'm not playing messenger for him.”

Akaashi shrugs. He bids farewell to Tsukishima and follows Kuroo back to the range.

“Who was that?” Kuroo asks.

“Former roommate,” Akaashi informs him. “He's a recurve shooter.”

“Suga's gonna own him,” Kuroo says.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says. “He's aware.”

 

Suga does beat Tsukishima in the individual matches.

But Suga doesn't win.

Instead, it's Oikawa at the center of the podium for recurve. He and Bokuto wear the individual golds with pride glimmering in their eyes.

After the awards, Akaashi finds himself getting dragged out to a celebration dinner that's far too big. He doesn't know why Tsukishima's team is coming with them, but Kuroo and Bokuto insert themselves so easily into the other group's compound team that Akaashi knows they must have been friends for a while.

At some point, they latch onto Tsukishima, too, and Akaashi almost feels bad for him. Except that Tsukishima is much better at dealing with people than Akaashi is, and Akaashi has to deal with Kuroo and Bokuto on a daily basis, so he's inclined to let them be someone else's problem for once.

They've all crowded into a bar now—somewhere Nishinoya swore had the best drinks in the city, though how he knows that is beyond Akaashi.

With Tsukishima occupied with Akaashi's teammates, Akaashi finds himself lurking at the bar, a little more lonely than he expected.

Suga is a bit further down, leaning close to Kiyoko, the female counterpart of one of the mixed teams present. Akaashi suspects Suga's only half-serious in his flirting, and Kiyoko seems to realize that, too, as she grins at him with a smirk that shifts between playful and predatory. Oikawa is off pestering a dark-haired male from Tsukishima's recurve team. Kageyama, if Akaashi had to guess based on the shots he watched earlier.

Iwaizumi and Daichi are mingling with the other compound team, drinking and laughing and prodding at each other with a sort of easy friendship.

“You get used to it,” someone says from behind Akaashi, and he turns in his seat to find Tsukishima's freckled roommate glancing over him. “We've been rival teams for a while. They all know each other pretty well.”

“Not you?” Akaashi asks.

Yamaguchi shrugs. “I've only been here a year.”

“How do you know I haven't been around a while, too?” Akaashi prods.

Yamaguchi smiles, something soft and genuine. “Tsukki told me about you.”

Akaashi smirks. Damn Kuroo. He needs to stop that. “Did he also tell you about the time he broke a hole in our wall with a skateboard?”

Yamaguchi's eyes go wide, and he bursts into surprised chuckles. “You're kidding?”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Ask him about it. It's a funny story.”

Yamaguchi leans on the bar next to Akaashi's seat, so close that Akaashi can feel the warmth of his body against his skin. He decides he'll tolerate it for now. “You're compound, right?”

Akaashi nods. “On the team for about... eight months?”

“Year and a half, for me,” Yamaguchi says. “Man, I can't believe this is your first World. You looked so composed when you shot.”

Akaashi nods to across the room to where Oikawa is sticking his tongue out at Iwaizumi. “Oikawa's the one you should be impressed with. I think Suga's pretty upset about him snatching the gold from him.”

“Yeah, but Oikawa shoots like he's been on the stage for a couple decades, already,” Yamaguchi hums thoughtfully. “You still make mistakes, but you recover from them so easily.”

Akaashi feels his face heat. “Ah, I guess...” He twists his fingers in the fabric of his jeans, needing something to do with his hands as embarrassment flows over him. “I guess I had to keep composed, with Bokuto as a teammate. His bad days are...”

“Bad?” Yamaguchi suggests with a giggle. “Still, it's impressive.”

“Thanks,” Akaashi eventually coughs out.

“So, any deep, dark secrets I should know about Tsukki? Other than the skateboard incident?”

Akaashi's gaze flicks over to his friend. Kuroo and Bokuto seem to have dragged him to the table the others are gathered at. They've acquired a redhead for their group, too.

“Thank God,” Kenma mutters, suddenly appearing at Akaashi's other side and taking a seat. “There's only so much Shouyou I can manage at one time.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “He's a handful. Ah—Yachi is calling me over. I'll talk to you later?”

Akaashi nods belatedly. Kenma turns so he can observe the rest of the bar, leaning on his hand. “Made a friend?”

Akaashi sighs out a breath. “I suppose. I hope that's all.”

Kenma quirks an eyebrow at him. Akaashi wonders if Kuroo had, in turn, told Kenma about Akaashi's sexuality.

It only seems fair.

“I'm ace,” Akaashi deadpans. “In case you didn't know.”

Kenma hums, an assent that he'd heard. He pulls out his phone and starts messing with some game. After a moment, he says, “Yeah, Kuroo told me.”

Akaashi sighs again. “Kuroo seems bad at keeping secrets.”

“He is,” Kenma says. “But only because he tries to manipulate what people know to get the best outcome. He likes sticking his nose into other peoples' business if he thinks he can help.”

Kenma scrunches up his face, though it's not the same sort of disgusted expression as before. Annoyance, this time. Akaashi wonders when exactly he figured out how to tell the difference.

“I don't know _why_ ,” Akaashi grumbles. “It'd be so much easier if he kept things to himself.”

Kenma shrugs. “He's just like that. I don't get it either.”

Akaashi huffs, and then leans slightly to watch what Kenma's doing on his phone. It's at least more interesting than watching Iwaizumi and Daichi arm wrestle in the center of the room. Iwaizumi is going to win, anyway.

“He's usually right,” Kenma says soflty. “Kuroo, I mean.”

“Oh,” Akaashi says, but doesn't actually give a response. Of course Kuroo is usually right. He pays attention, works every scenario in his favor. It's how he shoots, accounting for Akaashi and Bokuto constantly before he takes his next shot, so why would it be any different in all else he does?

Akaashi glances at Kenma's face, eyes glued to his phone, and realizes, fuck, Kuroo was right about this, too. This, even with the relative silence, is easy. Kenma and Akaashi have made their own little bubble, safe from their rowdy teammates. Kuroo's a goddamn puppetmaster, and he has strings attached to each of Akaashi's limbs.

Akaashi can't find himself to be mad. Damn Kuroo.

He wonders if Kenma feels the same way.

 

“I'm done!” Kenma announces, slamming the door open to Bokuto's apartment.

Kuroo's head pops up from the couch, and Akaashi quirks an eyebrow at him.

Kenma points accusingly at Kuroo. “I'm never listening to your suggestions ever again.”

Kuroo blinks and licks his lips, words carefully chosen. “Which suggestion would that be?”

Bokuto emerges from the kitchen, a spoon in his hand. “What's going on? Did Kenma beat another really good game? I wanna hear about it!”

“No,” Kenma growls. He glares at Kuroo. “You're never suggesting a roommate for me ever again. Tora has just scarred me for life.”

Kuroo's brow furrows. “But you love Tora?”

“Sure!” Kenma says loudly. At least, as loud as Akaashi's ever heard him. “Begrudgingly, but yes. As long as he's not _fucking someone on the living room couch_.”

Kuroo's mouth drops open, and then he starts cackling, laughter loud and obnoxious.

Kenma looks like he's ready to strangle his best friend.

“Who was it?” Bokuto asks, unfazed.

Kuroo laughs harder, and even Akaashi snickers at that one.

Kenma _glowers_. “How would I know? I didn't stick around for introductions!”

Akaashi snorts. “I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it.”

Kenma's face makes that distinctive _ick_ expression. “Most people don't make statements by fucking on couches.” He groans. “I can never sit there again.”

Just like he refuses to sit on the couch Kuroo is currently sitting on. Akaashi is about to offer Kenma his seat when instead Kenma just stomps over and squeezes into the space between Akaashi's hip and the armrest of the chair he's in.

Akaashi lets out a surprised noise, but after some shuffling, they both kinda fit, and the warmth of Kenma tucked, albeit angrily, against Akaashi's side is comforting.

“I need to move,” Kenma grumbles.

Bokuto perks up. “Akaashi, your roommate's moving out soon, isn't he?”

“What?” Akaashi says, and his brow furrows. He doesn't even remember telling Bokuto that.

Kuroo suddenly sobers. “Oh, perfect! See, Kenma, move in with Akaashi. Not all of my suggestions are terrible.”

Damn Kuroo.

Kenma makes a halfhearted attempt at kicking Kuroo's shin.

“I wouldn't mind,” Akaashi murmurs, and Kenma stops trying for bodily harm.

Kenma glances up at him, hair mused where it sticks to the fabric of Akaashi's shoulder as Kenma moves his head. He doesn't try to hide so much around Akaashi anymore. Akaashi supposes that three years of friendship will do that. “Really?”

“Sure,” Akaashi says. “I mean, it's a couple months until my roommate is leaving, but if that's okay... It's all yours. I promise I won't have sex on the couch.”

Kenma snorts out a bubble of laughter. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”

“See?” Kuroo prods. “Everything works out.”

Kenma lunges forward in a rare instance of quick movement, lunging for a pillow. He shoves Kuroo back, pushing the pillow into Kuroo's face, trying to smother his laughter.

“Bo—” Kuroo wheezes out, clawing at Kenma's wrists. “Help—”

“Why should I?” Bokuto says as he turns back the kitchen to finish making dinner. “You like it, anyway.”

Kenma recoils as if scalded.

Kuroo laughs so hard he nearly falls off the couch. Akaashi finds himself cackling at the panic on Kuroo's face as he almost tumbles to the floor.

“God, you're both horrible,” Kenma grouses. He shuffles back to Akaashi, squeezing into the armchair with him again. “As bad as Tora.”

“Hey, you've never walked in on us,” Kuroo protests. “That's unfair.”

“Maybe Kenma hasn't,” Akaashi deadpans. “But I know for a fact that neither of your are innocent.”

“Oh God,” Kenma whispers, horrified. “No, I don't want to know. Don't ruin any other furniture for me.”

Kuroo purses his lips. “It wasn't furniture. Y'know, I think I have long-term injuries from that. That floor was hard.”

“Which?” Bokuto asks from the kitchen.

“The equipment room at the range,” Kuroo answers. “I think.”

Kenma lets out a whine, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop.”

“I was referring to the time you were having sex in _my_ hotel room last World,” Akaashi says. “But I suppose that time was as equally horrifying.”

Kuroo scoffs. “You think we're bad? Just wait until Oikawa and Suga stop dancing around each other.”

Akaashi scowls. “What do you...”

“They've probably already screwed,” Kenma comments, expression screwing up into something displeased. “My bet is on next World, they're an item.”

“You're joking?” Akaashi says, incredulous.

“You really are as oblivious as Bo when it comes to relationships, huh?” Kuroo comments, and Akaashi frowns. “I'm betting by next month,” he adds, words directed at Kenma.

Kenma hums and settles more solidly against Akaashi.

Akaashi tells himself it doesn't matter if, for all his observant and reserved nature, he doesn't pick up on hints of romance. It's not like he's particularly looking for it, anyway.

Though, Akaashi thinks, brain working over the concept with a sort of cautious meticulousness, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, the whole romance thing.

 

It's not that Akaashi doesn't like dating. It's not that he doesn't believe in love, nothing like that. He wonders if Kuroo's assumed he's aromantic, too, at this point, but it's not entirely accurate. Akaashi's aversion to relationships comes from his hatred of change, and...

Well, he's always kind of assumed the asexual part would ruin things.

It has, in the past. Not disastrously so, but often it becomes clear to Akaashi early in the relationship that his partner eventually will desire something from him that Akaashi can't promise he'll be wiling to give. He figures trying to reconcile that isn't worth the effort.

So he stays away from dating. He doesn't mind it. Especially now that he's doing archery professionally and acquired easy friendships in the form of his teammates, and even some others, like Yamaguchi and Tsukishima.

But Kenma moving in seems to change that.

Kenma wins the bet, when Oikawa asks Suga out after winning his second gold at World. Maybe that has something to do with it, too. Bokuto and Kuroo had already long been together before Akaashi got there, so he never saw that tentative start to their relationship. Now though, watching Oikawa and Suga dote on each other, Akaashi realizes he kind of... _wants_ that.

It's weird, because he's never before desired a relationship like this. But it's not that he just wants _someone_ , it's that he wants one person, in particular.

One person, who is currently up at four in the morning because he's gotten engrossed in some game.

Akaashi knocks on the door frame to Kenma's room, looking in through the open door. He'd gotten up to go to the bathroom after being woken up by... something. A dream, maybe. And then he'd seen the quiet flicker of light from Kenma's room.

Kenma's shoulders twitch under the blanket he has wrapped around them, but otherwise he doesn't respond.

Akaashi slips into the room. He rests his hand on Kenma's shoulder, the other going to pluck at the earbuds he has in. “You should sleep.”

Kenma makes a grumbling noise at him, sounding not unlike the dragon he's fighting in his game.

“Come on,” Akaashi murmurs, rubbing at his shoulder.

“Couldn't sleep,” Kenma grunts.

“Well, you're definitely not going to sleep if you're playing a game,” Akaashi scoldss gently.

“Give me a min,” Kenma huffs, curling a bit further in on himself.

Akaashi sits on the bed. He stays, for a moment, and then decides to lay down next to Kenma. He leans to press close to Kenma's back, looking over his shoulder to watch him play.

Kenma's shoulders automatically relax against Akaashi, blanket slipping down a little. Akaashi reaches to fix it before he can stop himself. His hand lingers on Kenma's arm, feeling the twitch of his muscle as he taps at the buttons of his game.

It's nice, like this. Kenma's quiet breathing and the warmth of him next to Akaashi and the darkness of the room blanketing them into their own world. Akaashi feels his own breathing level, and he's almost fallen asleep when Kenma shifts, rousing him.

“Can you put this on the table?” Kenma asks.

Akaashi pries his eyes open, mumbling something sleepily at Kenma as he reaches for Kenma's game and sets it down somewhere on top of the set of drawers next to Kenma's bed. When Akaashi turns back to him, Kenma is watching him, something fond in the curve of his lips.

And then he yawns.

Akaashi chuckles, a slow rumble of amusement dampened by sleep. “See?” he manages. “You _are_ tired.”

“Go to sleep,” Kenma tells him, and then he's tossing the blanket that was around him over them both.

Akaashi hums sleepily, pleased. He curls closer to Kenma, one hand twisting into the hem of Kenma's shirt, and obeys.

 

The first time Akaashi sees Kenma naked, it's the last thing on his mind.

Kenma is flopped, miserable, across his bed, running a fever high enough to have Akaashi seriously considering taking him to the hospital. He'd taken off his clothes at some point because he'd been too hot, and now, he feels like he's freezing even though to Akaashi he's burning up.

“Fuck...” Kenma grumbles, shivering violently. His words on half-coherent from the fever and his stuffed-up nose. “I hate Shouyou.”

“I'm not sure if this is Shouyou's fault,” Akaashi halfheartedly defends. He replaces the cold cloth on Kenma's forehead with a new one.

Kenma glares weakly at him. “It's someone's.”

“You should try to get so—”

Kenma coughs violently, glaring again at Akaashi. As if it's Akaashi's fault for mentioning the cough that's been keeping him from getting any sleep.

“I'll get you some water,” Akaashi tells him. “Kuroo should be here with medicine, soon.”

Kenma flops over onto his side. “Don't let him in.”

Akaashi nods, even though Kenma can't see him, and slips from the room. He gets Kenma a glass of water, but when he returns, Kenma's eyes are closed and his breathing is rough but slowed in sleep. Akaashi leaves the water on the table next to Kenma's bed.

He busies himself with making some soup. Kenma's appetite has hit a new minimum while he's sick, but Akaashi hopes he can at least get Kenma to eat _something_.

He leaves the soup to simmer when there's a soft knock on the door.

Kuroo's worried face is on the other side, a shopping bag in his hand.

“Is he okay?” Kuroo blurts.

“Well, he's not dead,” Akaashi deadpans. “He's asleep, which is an improvement.”

And then, just to prove Akaashi wrong, Kenma coughs harshly. Akaashi lets out a sigh.

“Let me—” Kuroo says, but Akaashi catches at his arm before he can slip towards Kenma's room.

“He asked to be left alone,” Akaashi informs him.

“That's just—” Kuroo worries his bottom lip. “That's just Kenma being stubborn.”

“I'm taking care of him,” Akaashi says.

Kuroo hesitates, and then nods. His smirk this time, is something closer to a true smile, fond and thankful. He holds up the bag for Akaashi. “Medicine and apple juice. It's not apple pie, but he's more likely to drink it than water.”

“Thank you,” Akaashi says, taking the bag.

“Thank you, Akaashi,” Kuroo murmurs. “I knew you two would be good for each other.”

And then he turns, closing the door gently behind him.

Within a few minutes, Akaashi is bringing Kenma some medicine, a glass of apple juice, and a small bowl of soup.

Kenma is currently doing his best impression of a starfish on his bed, but he lets Akaashi prod him into a vaguely upright sitting position.

Kenma sips tentatively at the juice, and eventually Akaashi convinces him to eat a little. He complains about being cold until Akaashi finally relents and lets him get under the blankets. With some medicine in him now, the fever probably won't be as much of a problem.

“How's your throat?” Akaashi asks.

Kenma swallows. “Better.”

“Try to sleep?” Akaashi suggests.

Kenma waits, as if testing to see if his body is going to revolt against the concept with another coughing fit. When he keeps breathing relatively normally, he nods, and settles down into his bed.

Akaashi brushes Kenma's hair back from his face, and lets him recover.

And, after Kenma's fever is gone and his lungs mostly back to normal, when Akaashi wakes up sweating and aching and feeling horrid, Kenma returns the favor of gentle care.

It's somewhere in the haze of fever that Akaashi reflects on what happened: that Kenma trusted him, with even this. Something he didn't seem to want Kuroo to witness, though perhaps he just hadn't wanted to deal with Kuroo, and the nakedness had nothing to do with it.

Either way, Akaashi realizes, belatedly, that this is _supposed_ to change things. Something is supposed to be different, after something like that. Either awkward, or something else. But instead, they continue as normal.

 _Huh_ , Akaashi thinks as exactly nothing changes between them.

 

Oikawa is on their couch.

Akaashi has no idea how this has happened.

Kuroo's there, too, but he's currently draping himself over the arm of the couch in a splay so dramatic that Akaashi would have expected it to come from Oikawa or Hinata.

They've just finished World, which means not only that Akaashi's snagged another individual gold in the men's compound competition, but also that Oikawa's anniversary is imminent.

Akaashi still doesn't know why Oikawa is on his couch. Sure, Oikawa is probably having a crisis about what to do for his anniversary, but what does that have to do with Akaashi or Kenma.

Or Kuroo, for that matter.

Oikawa's gotten better over the years of being teammates. He's grown up, definitely, and dating Suga for the past year has probably helped smooth out some of his harsh edges. So he's certainly more tolerable than when Akaashi first met him, and even Kenma doesn't _mind_ his presence. But that doesn't mean Akaashi wants the biggest diva he knows pouting in his apartment.

“What about you?” Oikawa blurts suddenly, gaze flicking to Akaashi. “What do you do?”

“What?” Akaashi stares at him.

Kuroo's lazily tapping at his phone and smiling faintly. Probably texting Bokuto.

“Like... a plan! How do you celebrate?”

“...What?” Akaashi's brow furrows.

“With Kenma?” Oikawa says, puzzled.

Kuroo suddenly falls off the couch, making some sort of wounded sound.

“What do you mean?” Akaashi asks.

Kuroo only halfway recovers, catching himself on the back of the couch and shoulders spilling into Oikawa's lap. His chest is shaking with silent laughter. “They're—not—”

Oikawa's eyes widen, and he slaps at Kuroo's shoulder. “You're lying!”

“I'm—” Kuroo snickers, a breathy noise. He's getting to the point of that loud bark of a laugh, Akaashi can tell, even if he's not quite there yet. “I'm not.”

“Why do you keep letting me assume things!” Oikawa wails. “Your a terrible friend!”

“You never ask!” Kuroo protests, and then glances over at Akaashi. He starts cackling, obnoxious and familiar.

“Do I want to know?” Akaashi asks warily.

Oikawa shoves Kuroo off him and huffs. His cheeks tint pink as he admits, “I thought you and Kenma were dating.”

Akaashi blinks at him. “Why... would we?”

Oikawa gestures vaguely at exactly all of Akaashi. “I mean you basically are! You're super close and you spend most of your time with each other. You live together—”

“You live with Kuroo,” Akaashi points out.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, “With Kuroo _and my boyfriend_. Which—” Oikawa's voice suddenly pitches up dramatically. “—Bringing this back to the topic at hand! I'm here in my time of need, Kuroo, and you're just embarrassing me like this!”

“You did that on your own,” Kuroo wheezes out.

“Some backup you are!” Oikawa quips. “If you weren't the nosiest roommate I've had in my life, I'd gladly find someone else to go to for advice!”

“You _love_ me,” Kuroo retorts.

“Yeah, love it when you're _gone_ ,” Oikawa snaps without any real heat.

Kuroo gasps, mockly affronted.

“When are you moving in with Bokuto, anyway?” Oikawa tilts his chin up, snobbish, as if he's won the argument with that.

“Eh,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “When you kick me out, I guess.”

“You basically live at his apartment anyway,” Akaashi comments.

“Hey, I don't need you ganging up on me,” Kuroo huffs.

“Teasing you brings me great joy,” Akaashi says, deadpan.

Kuroo's expression falls into something entirely exasperated. Good, turn the tables between the two of them for once.

“Anyway!” Oikawa announces. “I need ideas!”

“You should ask Kenma,” Akaashi says. “He's the one who plays all the dating sims.”

Oikawa and Kuroo share a _look_. Akaashi doesn't like the fact he can't read it before they both start laughing.

Akaashi glares at them, and absolutely nothing changes, still.

 

Years pass with ease. It's not as if they fly by, and Akaashi doesn't take them for granted, but the days slip past filled with archery and Kenma and Kenma and archery, and Akaashi is happy as he is.

It's easy between them, too, and if things _have_ changed, it's been so gradual that it's been nearly invisible. Days pass with murmurs of conversation, comfortable companionship, and the nights pass just the same. Sometimes they fall asleep in each others' beds, and sometimes they fall asleep curled under the same blanket on the couch watching some TV show, and Akaashi wouldn't trade these moments with Kenma for anything.

“Ah,” Kenma announces one morning at breakfast, about a month after Oikawa's recent win at World. He and Bokuto have been insufferable since, but Akaashi can't blame them. Especially when Oikawa hadn't been able to compete the year before and Akaashi had snatched the gold from Bokuto the past two years.

“Kuroo's planning to propose,” Kenma says.

Akaashi nearly drops the milk he's pouring into his cereal. “Really?”

Kenma nods. “He just texted me.”

“He's not drunk, is he?” Akaashi glances at his phone. “At nine in the morning?”

“It's too coherent to be drunk texts,” Kenma says, as if it's entirely possible for Kuroo to be incapacitated this early.

“Huh,” Akaashi observes.

“Yup,” Kenma answers. He makes a face. It's not the _ick_ one. Instead, it's something cracking against his composure.

“Are you against it?” Akaashi asks quietly.

Kenma sighs and puts his phone down. Well, it's serious, then. “Just never thought he'd... get around to it, I guess. I don't like change.”

“Me either,” Akaashi hums. “But Kuroo won't leave us just because he's married.”

“I know,” Kenma says. He draws his feet up into his chair, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his chin on the kink of his elbow. “It's not about Kuroo.”

Akaashi watches him for a moment. “What is it about, then?”

“Do you ever feel like you'll never be enough for someone?” Kenma asks, very quietly.

Akaashi sucks in a breath. Instinctive, he reaches up the chew on the nail of his thumb before he catches himself in the habit and forces his arm down. “Yeah,” he sighs out. “With—a lot of people, really.”

Kenma chuckles, bitter. “Every relationship, right?”

Akaashi nods slowly. “...You're sure you're okay?”

Kenma tilts his head to hide behind his bangs. “Shouyou and I weren't going to work out anyway. I knew that. It's just...”

“Like Kuroo's rubbing salt in the wound?” Akaashi suggests.

“Yeah...” Kenma's hold tightens around his legs. “I hate feeling like I'm broken.”

Akaashi recoils, body twitching away. He stares at Kenma, horrified, and his voice comes out in a choked whisper. “Don't say that.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean... You're not broken, Keiji.”

“Don't you _dare_ say that,” Akaashi says, throat tightening around his words. “Kenma, you're _not_ broken. You don't—neither of us deserve to have to defend us from _ourselves_. We're not broken.”

“God,” Kenma grumbles. “You're right. But it doesn't matter—I'm never going to be enough for anyone. It's—people are hard. Relationships with people are _hard_.”

“Not with you,” Akaashi whispers. “Not for me.”

Kenma peeks out from his bangs, gaze pinning on Akaashi. For a moment, it goes hard and calculating, amber searing over Akaashi's skin, and then Kenma's breath hitches. He shakes his head, but Akaashi catches the faintest hint of a smile.

“Not with you,” Kenma agrees.

Kenma reaches for his phone, and they lapse into silence. Akaashi stares at his bowl of cereal and wonders if it's still worth it if it's not crunchy anymore.

A few minutes later, Akaashi asks, tentative, “How come Kuroo's never moved in with Bokuto?”

Kenma shrugs, now uncurled from his previous hunched position, though one leg is still propped on his chair. “The same reason Oikawa isn't going to propose until he wins another two golds at World: pride.”

“Ah,” Akaashi says, as if he understands.

He sort of gets it. He understands the rush of ambition, the glory of success, the power in proving yourself.

But pride—that's useless, in the end. Why defer to pride, when Kuroo could have something like this? Warm mornings and intimate companionship and love. Pride is the last thing Akaashi would let get in the way of this, with Kenma.

And still, nothing changes.

 

There's never a sudden moment of realization.

There's never some undeniable shift in their relationship.

Akaashi doesn't know when exactly their interactions shifted from leaning on each other's shoulders to something else. He's not sure who was the first to press a fleeting kiss to the other's cheek. He doesn't know when they stopped going to sleep in separate beds.

He's certainly not sure when he fell in love.

Maybe it was years, _years_ ago, before they even moved in together.

Maybe it was last World, when Kenma snagged his first gold from Oikawa. He'd hated the attention, but his eyes said _challenge me, I dare you, for I've climbed and conquered for this recognition, and to try and take it means I'll crush you, too_.

Maybe it was a million other times, all at once. Maybe Akaashi has fallen in love, bit by bit, over the course of the past ten years, and just never realized what it was like because he'd never felt it before.

There aren't butterflies and infatuation. There isn't the desire to show Kenma off as his or do anything more than perhaps kiss him. All he wants is what they have, this closeness, this—whatever it is—for the rest of his life.

The desire to voice this—something that has never happened to Akaashi before—comes over him one night while the team is having dinner at Ukai and Takeda's.

They've already eaten, but are still at the table, lingering in the friendship. There's a conversation happening around them, and Kenma's hand is curled loosely on Akaashi's thigh as he leans against Akaashi's shoulder, gaze flicking from Bokuto to Oikawa as they argue good-naturedly about something.

“Hey Kenma?” Akaashi murmurs, turning to say to words to the crown of Kenma's hair. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenma turns and looks up at him, drawing back enough to gaze at Akaashi. He blinks. “Of course I do.”

Akaashi shifts to cover Kenma's hand with his, and it's Kenma who links their fingers together, archery callouses and all.

Akaashi smiles at him. Presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Am I _really_ the only one seeing this?” Kuroo squawks, loudly, from where he's sitting across the table from Akaashi and Kenma. “Listen, for ten years I've been saying they're made for each other, and now they're just—what is this? Why is literally no one else trying to convince them to just tie the Goddamn knot?”

“You're one to talk,” Iwaizumi deadpans.

“Kuroo...” Daichi says slowly. “They've been dating for the past two years or so.”

Kenma ducks his head, but not quick enough that Akaashi doesn't catch the smirk playing on his lips.

“They have _not_ ,” Kuroo growls. “I know for a fact—”

“Well, they have been especially close since you announced your engagement with Bokuto,” Suga muses. “Perhaps you kickstarted something.”

“I—they're _not_ ,” Kuroo insists.

“Why don't you actually ask them?” Kiyoko suggests calmly.

Kuroo turns his sharp gaze on Akaashi, accusing. “Are you guys dating?”

Akaashi smiles sweetly. God, the payback for _years_ of Kuroo being a shit to him is finally culminating in the form of causing Kuroo to have an existential crisis at the dinner table. If there's one thing Akaashi loves as much as Kenma, it's teasing Kuroo.

So, even though they've never once spoken about it, even though by all real accounts, nothing has changed, Akaashi says, “Yes. We are.”

Kenma's shoulders shake where they're pressed against Akaashi's side, silently laughing. He pushes his face against Akaashi's neck, trying to hide his expression further.

“How long?” Oikawa prods, leaning closer on an arm he has propped on the table.

Akaashi hums thoughtfully. “Well...”

And, because nothing's changed, not since the beginning, not since they _met_ , Akaashi says: “I suppose about ten years now.”

Kuroo lets out a distressed noise, incredulous and angry.

Akaashi and Kenma both devolve into cackles. It's a long time before they recover, and around them, the others listen to Kuroo ranting about _Akaashi's continued existence and why Daichi should really let Kuroo go strangle him right now, like right now_.

Akaashi just laughs harder.

 

They never even talk about it.

It's like archery. The longer you spend in those same motions, repeating the draw and release, the familiar pull of muscles and the kiss of a bowstring and the trained eye for a misplaced foot or fingertip. The longer you devote to it, the more ingrained it becomes. Your muscles remember, your mind remembers, your heart remembers.

You don't realize any of it, until one day you look back and count the steps you've taken to get where you are now.

This, too, is how they come together.

They never talk about it, not really. Somehow, they just fall into each other and fall in love in sync. It happens over a span of moments, a range of heartbeats. Akaashi remembers the first time he met Kenma, and he remembers a thousand snapshots in between, but never once does he question how he got from that starting point to _I love you, I love you, I love you_.

Unlike Oikawa, unlike Kuroo, pride is something different for them. Just how relationships are different for them.

Their first kiss is lost between a million other important details. It doesn't matter, the first, not when they have so many more in their future, not when there's been so many, since then. Kenma's lips are warm, as always, and his gaze soft when Akaashi pulls back, and his smile warm. It is today, as it always is, as it's always been.

For the first time, they've found something between them that's _enough_. They're _enough_. This thing—whatever it is—makes them happy and keeps them close and means they can always trust each other, no matter what.

That thing? It's love.

Akaashi is thirty when he realizes it. And the only thing that's not enough is the past ten years he's spent with Kenma. Not when he has so many more to look forward to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> maybe i'll write a bokuroo companion fic at some point. complete the trio.


End file.
